


BREAKFAST CONFESSIONS

by jonnor_chaos



Series: CONFRONTING OURSELVES [4]
Category: Actor RPF, American (US) Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Harrison Osterfield - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF, tom holland - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Boyfriends, Breakfast, Confession, Feelings, Flat - Freeform, Fluff, GUYS, Gay, Honesty, Kissing, LGBT, Love, M/M, Passion, Pride, Romance, Sloppy Makeouts, Tea, Tension, boys, friends - Freeform, haz likes tom, tom likes haz, well maybe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 18:16:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15540117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonnor_chaos/pseuds/jonnor_chaos





	BREAKFAST CONFESSIONS

I could smell bacon. And perhaps French toast. My brain had not yet woken up fully. Long trip, late nights and lingering jet lag. What a bitch!

I turned onto my back and stretched out in my bed. Like actually _mine_ , not some bed in a hotel suite. There really was no place like home. Even if home had been a bit edgy the last four days.

Not that I was expecting sunshine and roses after what happened on the plane…

 

* * *

 

 

**_“Oh.” he whispered. “Are you sure?”_ **

**_I laughed softly, “Am I sure I’m gay?” I asked him._ **

**_He nodded._ **

**_“Yea, I reckon so mate.”_ **

**_He was struggling again, I could tell. Those damn walls._ **

**_“Right, stupid question I guess,” he said back to me. “it’s just that I… I don’t…”_ **

**_“It’s alright, Tommy,” I assured him, “You don’t need to say it just because I have. Everyone has their own path.”_ **

**_He ran a hand through his hair. That perfect fucking hair._ **

**_“I just… I never thought of myself as being… you know… until you…” he looked frightened._ **

**_“Until I kissed you.” I finished for him. He nodded._ **

**_“So what happens now?” he asked genuinely._ **

**_As it turns out, I would still not know the answer to that question - not even four days later._ **

 

* * *

 

 

After we landed and got through the chaos that is Heathrow, the reality of being home sort of took over. We were Tom and Haz again. Best friends. To his family and mine, that was how it had always been. We hung out and caught up with friends as if nothing had changed. It was so easy that even I was confused.

Tom had insisted that I didn’t need to stay back home a few days. “It’s your flat too Haz, don’t be a div,” he scolded me playfully. The look in his eye was less playful. So I had stayed.

I pushed back the covers and got out of bed the warm bed. From the parting in my curtains I could see the rain falling steadily outside. Welcome to England. Luckily, the flat had under-floor heating. I contemplated throwing on a t-shirt but the smell drifting from the kitchen had its hooks in me – pyjama pants would have to do.

Padding down the hall, I heard Tom speak and paused to listen.

“…. Like he gave me an answer.” He was saying, “So I have fucking idea what’s going on.”

Was he on the phone?

_Oh shit! Who could he be talking too?!_ My mind panicked a little.

“I mean, you saw how it was last night.” Tom continued.

I took the last steps forward and turned into the kitchen. His back was to me, French toast sizzling in the pan. Sitting on the floor at his feet was Tessa.

_Thank fuck for that!_ I smiled in relief.

“Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness, ya know.” I teased.

He turned around, a little faster than I think he meant to. “Haz! You’re awake. Before noon”

“And you’re cooking, miracles must be real.” I teased.

He took the dish towel and threw it at me playfully. “I’ll have you know Little Tess is the best therapist in the world.” He said, reaching down to ruffle her ears.

“I see. Is she counselling you on how to make French toast without setting of the fire alarm?”

“Ha. Ha.” He said, his face mocking me, “I know how to cook some things thank you very much.”

He wasn’t lying. But letting him run free in the kitchen was also not a good idea.

“Ok let’s try that again,” I said, stepping up to the stove, “ _why_ are you cooking?”

He finished turning the French toast slices, “For you.” He said simply, without hesitation.

I could feel a blush creep into my cheeks. Was this Tom trying to be sweet? To flirt?

“Were you gonna bring it to me in bed too?” I teased.

He froze a little, startled by my words. “Um… yea… I, I guess.”

This is how it had been the past four days. This banter and light teasing backward and forward. Each of us knocking lightly on the door but neither brave enough exactly to open it.

Last night had definitely been different though…

 

* * *

 

 

**_“Haz! Hurry up!” Tom called. He was perched, barefoot in his favourite joggers and a t-shirt, on one half of the plush couch he had bought when we moved in a few months ago._ **

**_Grabbing the popcorn from the microwave, I made my way around the kitchen island, “Alright, alright. Cool your jets Holland. Popcorn is done.”_ **

**_“About bloody time.” he teased, turning to wink at me as I sat down next to him._ **

**_“Tom!”_ **

**_“Yes?” he asked, all innocent._ **

**_“Stop that.”_ **

**_“I have no idea what you mean.”_ **

**_I raised an eyebrow, “You know what exactly what I mean.”_ **

**_The cheeky bugger actually smirked, “Am I making you blush?”_ **

**_"No!” I replied, too quickly, “Just…. Just don’t start something you won’t want to finish.”_ **

**_He sat still for a moment, looking at me carefully. I felt the blush creep higher on my cheeks. He shifted on his seat, leaned over and kissed me on the side of the lips._ **

**_“I never leave a movie unfinished.” He said angelically, “You just ate all the popcorn.”_ **

**_That was it. He turned back to the screen, pressed play and watched as if nothing had happened (the sneaky bastard)._ **

**_It wasn’t until a few minutes when I felt something soft and warm against my skin that I realised what his plan had been._ **

**Oh wow am I so fucked! _I thought, before the sound of T’Challa fighting Killmonger filled the room and I got lost in feeling of his hand in mine._**

 

* * *

 

 

Snap! Snap! Snap!

I jolted out of my recollection. Tom was holding a plate of food in one hand and snapping his fingers with the other, standing much closer than he had been before.

“Huh? What was that?” I asked, trying to ignore the heat in my cheeks.

“I said – for the third time – do you want to eat this in bed?”

I could almost feel the heat of him, so close to me. It was dizzying and at the same time I couldn’t get enough.

“That depends,” I managed to say quietly.

“On what?”

“Are you getting into the bed too?”

His expression tightened. But even if I hadn’t been this close to him, I would still have seen the change. It wasn’t the same way as he looked at me in the hotel. That was desperation. This was a combination of frustration and temptation. He didn’t know what to do with it.

“Haz.” He said softly.

"Tommy…” I inched a little closer.

His eyes slipped to my chest. Something flashed across his face. _Was that desire? Is he checking me out?_ My mind raced a little, but not as fast as my heart.

“You should put on a shirt.” He said, his voice sounding strained.

“Or you could take yours off,” I countered, my voice more steady than I expected.

He put the plate down slowly on the counter and closed the gap between us almost entirely.

“Don’t…” he said tightly, “don’t start thi…”

"I wasn’t _starting_ , Thomas. I was _offering_.”

I didn’t even see him move. Or feel myself moving. Before I could think my back was against the panelled wall of the kitchen. His hands on my waist, pinning me there, face only inches from my own.

“Every fucking time.” he growled.

I couldn’t speak. It was all intoxicating. The heat of his hands on my skin, the smell of his shower gel, the feel of his breath on my neck. My lips felt suddenly dry, I ran my tongue along them, trying to find words.

“Harrison.” he had gone quiet, his grip on my hips tightening, “Don’t do that!”

“W…why?”

He raised a hand and brushed it along my neck, “You… you know why.”

“Tommy… please…”

 

* * *

 

 

I saw the moment he lost control. His eyes glazed a bit, like his resolve let up. And instantly his lips were moving against mine. His hands steadying both him and I. There was no space between us now. I could feel the trembling in his body at the same time as I felt his tongue part my lips. The world melted away and it was just him and I. The most desperate, amazing kiss. And it was for me.

He pulled away. _Too soon! My brain cried._ We were breathless, trembling and flushed. His hand on my cheek, he looked directly into my eyes.

“I…. I can’t do this an… anymore,” he stammered.

My heart ached at the sound of his voice. I put my hands over his, “”It’s okay, Tom.”

His face was a film of its own, so many emotions fighting for dominance.

“No, it’s not.” He said, eyes glistening with tears ready to fall, “you’re all I ever fucking think about Haz…”

I could feel myself smile, “You’re all I think about too, you div.”

He laughed, a short, happy huff of air. “I… I don’t know what this means.”

“It means, if you want do this me, Tommy,” I told him simply, “You already have my answer.”

I hadn’t even finished when his lips were on mine again. His hands pulling me tighter to him. I surrendered to it, the agonising weeks of longing and tension coming undone in that kiss. His shirt came off… was that me? His fingers scratching lightly at my back. I could feel him growing against me and my body responded without hesitation.

His body shook and he pulled away. Another kiss over too soon. I was startled at what I saw. Tom.

I put my hand out and he took, holding it to his lips and kissing lightly on my fingers.

 

 

 

“I… I do, Haz… I want to be with you,” he said through tears and a smile, “…I really fucking do.”


End file.
